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GIFT   OF 


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Nineteen 
Odes  of  Horace 


Englished  by 

WILLIAM  HATHORN  MILLS 


Nineteen 
Odes  of  Horace 


ENGLISHED  BY 

WILLIAM  HATHORN  MILLS 


SAN  BERNARDINO,  CALIFORNIA 

BARNUM    &    FLAGG    COMPANY 
1920 

COPYRIGHT 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Od.  III.  11 5 

Od.  III.  14 6 

Od.  III.  15 7 

Od.  III.  16 8 

Od.  III.  19 9 

Od.  III.  24 10 

Od.  III.  27 13 

Od.  III.  29 15 

Od.  IV.  1 17 

Od.  IV.  4 19 

Od.  IV.  5 21 

Od.  IV.  6 23 

Od.  IV.  8 24 

Od.  IV.  9 25 

Od.  IV.  10 27 

Od.  IV.  13 28 

Od.  IV.  14 29 

Od.  IV.  15 31 

The  Secular  Hymn 32 


444311 


Od.  III.  ii. 

I  PRAY  thee,  Mercury — since  by  thee 
Inspired  Amphion's  song  moved  stones — 
And  thee,  O  Shell,  whose  psaltery 

Can  sound  forth  Music's  seven  tones — 
Not  tuneful  once,  nor  sweet,  but  now 

Welcome  to  fane  and  rich  man's  board — 
Prompt  me  a  strain,  whose  charm  shall  bow 

Lyde's  proud  ears  my  suit  toward: 
Who,  as  a  filly  three  years  old 

In  the  wide  fields,  frolics,  and  fears 
A  touch,  a  maiden  pure,  for  bold 

Wooer  as  yet  too  young  in  years. 
Thou  can'st  draw  tigers  after  thee, 

And  woods;  the  torrent's  rush  can'st  stay; 
Before  thy  music's  witchery 

The  vast  Hall's  warder-hound  gave  way — 
Aye,  Cerberus,  tho'  his  frightful  head 

Is  girt  with  snakes  a  hundred  strong; 
Tho'  foul  his  breath,  and  slime,  like  shed 

Gore,  dribbles  from  his  triple  tongue. 
Nay  e'en  Ixion,  forced  to  smile, 

And  Tityos,  laughed  against  the  grain; 
The  urn  stood  empty  for  a  while, 

While  Danaids  heard  thy  soothing  strain. 
Let  Lyde  hear  what  sin  disgraced 

Those  virgins:  what  their  well-known  fate: 
How  all  the  water  runs  to  waste 

From  the  urn's  bottom:  how,  tho'  late, 


In  Orcus  sin's  reward  is  sure. 

Ah  impious — what  could  mortal  hand 
Do  worse? — who,  impious,  could  endure 

To  slay  their  grooms  with  cruel  brand. 
One  out  of  all  the  band  alone, 

Worthy  the  marriage  torch,  to  sire 
Forsworn  was  greatly  false,  and  won 

A  fame  that  lives  while  years  expire: 
Who  roused  her  young  groom  in  the  night — 

"Up,  lest  a  sleep,  whence  fearest  naught, 
A  long  sleep,  whelm  thee;  cheat  by  flight 

My  sire's  and  wicked  sisters'  thought, 
Who,  as  she-lions  tear  their  prey 

Of  calves,  are  tearing — woe  is  me! — 
Each  her  own  mate;  kinder  than  they, 

I  will  not  smite  or  prison  thee. 
Me  let  my  sire  load  with  rude  chains 

Because  my  lad  I  would  not  slay; 
Me  let  his  fleet  to  the  domains 

Of  far  Numidia  bear  away. 
Go  thou  where  feet  and  breezes  take 

Thee;  night  is  kind  and  Venus  nigh. 
So  farewell;  for  my  memory's  sake, 

Grave  on  my  tomb  an  elegy." 

Od.  III.  14- 

/CAESAR,  of  whom  we  lately  spoke 
^^  As  bent  on  bays,  like  Hercules, 
That  death  must  buy,  returns,  good  folk, 

Home  from  his  Spanish  victories. 
Proud  of  your  peerless  lord,  do  you, 


His  wife,  after  due  prayer  and  rite, 
Come  forth — our  brave  chiefs  sister  too, 

And,  with  thanksgiving:  fillets  bright, 
Mothers  of  girls,  and  youths  restored 

Safe  to  their  homes;  ye  lads,  and  ye, 
Lasses  new-wed,  utter  no  word 

To-day  of  evil  augury. 
This  day,  truly  a  feast  for  me, 

Will  chase  black  cares;  I  will  not  dread, 
While  Caesar  holds  the  world  in  fee, 

Tumult,  or  stroke  shall  strike  me  dead. 
Boy,  fetch  me  unguents,  flowers,  and  bring 

Wine  that  recalls  the  Marsian  war, 
If  anywhere  that  wandering 

Rogue  Spartacus  passed  by  a  jar. 
And  bid  clear-voiced  Neaera  knot 

Her  perfumed  hair  without  delay, 
And  come;  but  if  the  porter's  not 

Friendly,  and  hinders,  come  away. 
Gray  hairs  tame  tempers,  once,  I  fear, 

Too  keen  on  brawls  and  quarrellings; 
Had  I  youth's  fire,  as  in  the  year 

Of  Plancus,  I'd  not  brook  such  things. 

Od.  III.  15. 

TV7IFE  of  poor  Ibycus,  have  done 
VV     At  last  with  your  depravity, 
And  infamous  pursuits,  as  one 

To  whom  a  timely  death  draws  nigh. 
No  longer  sport  young  girls  among, 

Nor  cloud  their  brightness  starry-cl 


8 

What  misbecomes  not  Pholoe  young, 

Becomes  not  Chloris  old  and  sere. 
More  fitly  storms  your  girl  the  halls 

Of  youth,  like  Thyiad,  by  drum-bray 
Maddened,  whom  love  of  Nothus  calls 

To  wanton  like  a  roe  at  play. 
Far-famed  Luceria's  wools  agree 

Best  with  your  years:  not  red  new-blown 
Roses:   not  jars   drained  to  the  lee: 

Not  citterns — for  you  are  a  crone. 

Od.  III.  16. 

BRONZE  tower,  stout  doors,  and  surly  guard 
Of  watchful  dogs,  had  safely  barred 
Against  assaults  of  midnight  love 
Fair  Danae's  prison,  had  not  Jove 
And  Venus  mocked  Acrisius'  care, 
His  jealous  wardship,  well  aware 
That  to  the  God  in  golden  shower 
Broad  way  and  safe  would  ope  the  tower. 
Thro*  bodyguards,  thro*  masonry, 
Gold  makes  its  way  more  potently 
Than  levin-bolt;  'twas  lucre  brought 
The  Argive  augur's  house  to  naught. 
By  bribes  the  man  of  Macedon 
Cleft  open  city-gates,  and  won 
The  fall  of  rival  monarchies; 
Even  rude  admirals  have  their  price. 
Increase  of  wealth  and  greed  bring  on 
Care;  from  self-gloriation 
Rightly  I've  shrunk  unto  this  hour, 


9 

Maecenas,  knighthood's  pride  and  flower. 

The  more  a  man  himself  denies, 

The  more  kind  Heaven  to  him  supplies; 

Homely  I  seek  camps  of  content, 

Deserting  wealth's  environment, 

Prouder,  as  master  of  my  small 

Farm,  than  as  famed  to  garner  all 

Apulia's  fruits  of  industry, 

In  plenty,  yet  in  scarcity. 

A  rivulet  clear,  a  wood  of  few 

Acres,  my  small  crop's  promise  true, 

Give  me  a  lot  that,  hid  from  him, 

Makes  Afric  praetor's  fame  look  dim. 

Tho'  bees  Calabrian  bring  not  in 

Honey,  nor  wine  in  Formian  bin 

Mellows,  nor  sheep  on  Gallic  lea 

Fatten,  and  grow  thick  wool,  for  me, 

Yet  from  harsh  poverty  I'm  free ; 

If  more  I  craved,  you'ld  give  it  me; 

Curtailed  wants  would  more  happily 

Enlarge  my  income  than  if  I 

Blent  the  dominions  of  Mygdon 

And  Alyattes  into  one. 

Want  much,  lack  much;  happy  is  he 

To  whom  Heaven  grants  sufficiency. 

Od.  III.  19. 

YOU  tell  what  years  part  Inachus 
From  Codrus,  patriot  to  the  death: 
What  was  the  line  of  Aeacus: 

What  wars  raged  Ilion's  walls  beneath; 


10 

But  price  of  Chian:  at  whose  cost 

The  baths  are  warmed:  the  hour  to  flee 
Pelignian  cold:  who  is  the  host — 

All  this  you  leave  in  mystery. 
To  the  new  moon  charge  bumpers,  boy, 

To  midnight,  to  our  augur  new, 
Murena;  for  each  toast  employ 

Three  or  four  ladlefuls  as  due. 
Who  holds  the  odd-numbered  Muses  dear, 

A  crazed  bard,  will  with  three  times  three 
Ladles  make  merry,  but,  for  fear 

Of  strife,  the  Graces'  trinity, 
Unrobed,  makes  three  the  bound.     But  we 

Would  fain  be  mad.    Why  stays  the  flute 
Its  Berecynthian  revelry? 

Why  hang  the  lyre  and  Pan-pipe  mute? 
I  hate  close  fists;  strew  roses;  let 

Crossgrained  old  Lycus  hear  our  mad 
Din;  let  it  make  his  Amoret 

Ill-matched,  his  neighbour  lady,  glad. 
You  with  your  long  locks  fair  to  see: 

You,  Telephus,  who  like  Vesper  shine, 
Rhode,  fit  mate,  seeks;  as  for  me, 

I  slowly  burn  for  Glycera  mine. 

Od.  III.  24. 

THO'  wealthier  than  all  Araby 
With  untouched  stores,  and  rich  Indies, 
With  quarried  stones  you  occupy 

All  that  is  land,  and  public  seas, 
Natheless,  if  grim  Necessity 


11 

Nails  with  steel  nails  each  pinnacle, 
Your  soul  from  fear  you  will  not  free, 

Nor  'scape  Death's  toils — his  halter  fell. 
Better  the  life  of  Scyths,  who  scour 

The  steppes,  whose  waggons  bear  afield 
Their  shifting  homes,  and  Getae  dour, 

For  whom  unmeasured  acres  yield 
Free  crops  of  corn:  who  till  their  land 

But  for  a  year;  each  worker  does 
His  share;  that  done,  another  hand 

Relieves  him;  thus  the  shared  work  goes. 
Kind  is  stepmother's  face  toward 

Stepchildren  motherless,  kind  her  sway; 
The  dowried  wife  rules  not  her  lord, 

Nor  heeds  what  sleek  adulterers  say. 
Their  dowry  great  is  innocence 

Of  parents,  and  the  chastity 
Of  marriage  faith  that  fears  offence 

Of  Heaven,  with  death  for  penalty. 
Who  wills  to  end  the  deaths  that  shame 

Our  civic  madness,  and  to  bear 
Beneath  his  statues  the  proud  name, 

"Father  of  Cities",  let  him  dare 
To  curb  wild  license,  and  for  fame 

Look  to  the  future,  for  our  spite 
Hates  living  worth — O  wicked  shame! — 

To  miss  it  when  it's  lost  to  sight. 
What  boot  laments,  if  penalty 

Cuts  not  the  crime  short?     Of  what  worth 
Are  laws  without  morality, 

If  nor  that  quarter  of  the  earth 


12 

That's  fenced  by  heat,  nor  that  which  lies 

Nearest  the  North  Wind,  where  deep  snow 
Crusts  the  earth's  surface,  terrifies 

The  merchant:  if  skilled  sailors  plow 
The  boisterous  seas:  if  the  disgrace 

Of  poverty  bids  men  consent 
To  aught,  and  do  aught,  mean  and  base, 

And  shun  true  Virtue's  steep  ascent? 
Or  to  the  Capitol  bear  we, 

Summoned  by  crowds'  applauding  call, 
Or  plunge  we  in  the  nearest  sea, 

Gems,  jewels,  useless  gold,  of  all 
That's  worst  the  source,  if  we  repent 

Us  truly  of  our  grievous  sin. 
We  must  stub  up  each  element 

Of  base  desire,  must  discipline 
Too  tender  souls  with  more  severe 

Studies;  untrained,  the  high-born  boy 
Can't  sit  a  horse;  he  turns  with  fear 

From  hunting;  handier  with  a  toy — 
With  Grecian  hoop,  if  you  desire, 

Or,  if  you  like,  with  dice,  despite 
The  law.    What  wonder,  when  his  sire 

To  guest  and  partner  breaks  his  plight, 
Keen  to  snatch  gain  for  worthless  son? 

Certes  base  lucre  multiplies 
Itself,  and  yet  the  prize,  when  won, 

Lacks  something — lacks  what  satisfies. 


13 


Od.  III.  27. 

LET  omens  ill  attend  the  way 
Of  impious  souls — tu-whooing  owl, 
And  pregnant  bitch,  or  wolf  blue-grey, 

Down-rushing  from  Lanuvium's  knowl, 
And  vixen  bred;  or  let  their  start 

Be  broken  off  by  slantwise  run 
Of  serpent  swift  as  flying  dart, 

That  scares  their  team;  but  I,  for  one 
For  whom  I  fear,  an  augur  wise, 

Or  e'er  the  rain-seer  bird  divine 
Reseeks  the  marsh,  from  the  sunrise 

Will  call  the  crow  to  speak  a  sign. 
May  you  be  happy  wheresoever, 

My  Galatea,  you  may  go; 
Forget  me  not,  nor  woodpecker, 

Upon  your  left,  nor  wandering  crow, 
Forbid  you.     But  you  see  with  what 

Tempests  Orion  sets  e'en  now; 
What  Hadria's  dark  gulf  is,  and  that 

lapyx  clear  can  sin,  I  know. 
May  enemy  wife  and  family 

Feel  rising  Auster's  blind  outbreaks, 
And  Ocean's  black  ferocity, 

And  shores  that  furious  wave-beat  shakes. 
Thus  risked  Europa  her  fair  life 

On  treacherous  bull,  and,  seeing  the  sea 
With  monsters  thronged,  with  perils  rife, . 

Paled  at  her  own  audacity. 
Lately  intent  on  flowering  leas, 


14 

And  wont  to  wreathe  the  chaplets  due 
To  Nymphs,  she  now  saw  naught  but  seas 

Boundless,  and  stars  the  dim  night  thro'. 
Soon  as  she  reached  Crete  with  its  host 

Of  towns,  a  hundred  strong,  "0  sire!", 
She  cried,  "0  name  of  daughter  lost! 

O  duty  slain  by  mad  desire! 
Whence  came  I  whither  ?    One  death  were 

For  virgins'  sin  light  penalty. 
Wail  I,  awake,  as  wrong-doer, 

Foul  deed,  or  does  a  phantasy 
Vain  mock  my  innocence  in  sleep, 

With  dream  from  ivory  gateway  flown? 
Better  was  it  to  cross  the  deep, 

Or  gather  flowerets  freshly  blown? 
Should  any  yield  that  beast  infame 

To  my  just  wrath,  I'd  strive,  I  vow, 
To  break  its  horns;  with  sword  I'd  maim 

The  monster  loved  so  well  but  now. 
Shameless  I  left  my  father's  home: 

Shameless  stay  Orcus.     0,  if  ear 
Divine  can  hear,  I  fain  would  roam 

Where  lions  my  bare  flesh  would  tear. 
Ere  from  fair  cheeks  the  bloom  has  died 

Decayed,  ere  ebbs  life's  ruddy  blood 
From  victim  young,  in  beauty's  pride 

Gladly  I'd  be  fierce  tiger's  food. 
'Europa  vile',  cries  far  away 

My  sire,  'death  beckons;  with  your  zone, — 
"Twas  well  you  brought  it  with  you — may 

You  break  your  neck,  hung  from  this  roan. 


15 

Or  if  rocks  deadly  sharp,  and  high 

Cliff,    please    you    more,    trust    the    wind's 

wings, 
Unless  you  rather  wish  to  ply 

A  slave-girl's  task — you,  sprung  from  kings, 
A  concubine,  to  foreign  dame 

Abandoned/  "    As  she  made  lament, 
Venus  with  smile  perfidious  came 

Up,  and  her  son  with  bow  unbent. 
So  soon  as  she  had  mocked  enow, 

"Cease",  cried  she,  "from  your  passionate 
Complaints,  when  the  loathed  bull  shall  bow 

His  horn^for  you  to  mutilate. 
Unconquered  Jove's  wife  unaware 

You  are;  sob  not;  great  is  your  fame; 
Learn  to  bear  well  a  fate  so  fair, 

For  half  the  world  shall  wear  your  name". 

Od.  III.  29. 

OF  Tuscan  kings,  Maecenas,  heir, 
An  unbroached  jar  of  mellow  wine, 
Rose-blooms,  and  balsam  for  your  hair 

Of  ben-nuts,  wait  you  here,  langsyne 
Expectant;  haste,  nor  watch  for  aye 

Wet  Tibur,  Aefula's  hillside, 
And  the  far  wolds  where  erst  held  sway 

Telegonus,  the  parricide. 
Come,  leave  your  plenty's  irk  and  bore, 

Your  palace  with  its  skyey  dome; 
Nor  marvel  longer  at  the  roar 


16 

And  smoke  and  pomp  of  wealthy  Rome. 
Welcome  to  him,  a  change  to  meals 

Simple,  in  humble  cots,  that  know 
Nor  purple  rugs,  nor  awninged  ceils, 

Has  often  smoothed  a  rich  man's  brow. 
Now  shining  out  the  sire  of  fair 

Andromeda  unveils  his  rays; 
Now  Procyon  and  the  mad  Lion  glare 

Frenzied,  as  suns  bring  back  dry  days. 
Now,  weary  with  his  weary  flock, 

The  shepherd  seeks  the  shady  rill, 
And  thickets  of  Silvanus  shock, 

And,  breathless  now,  the  bank  is  still. 
How  best    the  State  may  stand  and  hold 

Its  own,  you  ponder;  fear,  too,  what 
Seres  and  Bactria,  ruled  of  old 

By  Cyrus,  and  rent  Tanais  plot. 
All  wisely  Heaven  in  darkest  night 

Enshrouds  the  event  that  is  to  be, 
And  mocks  if  mortal  men  despite 

Its  sanctions:  order  equably 
What  is;  all  else  sweeps  on  amain, 

Like  stream  that  down  mid-channel  now 
Falls  calm  into  the  Tuscan  main, 

Now  rolls  down  stones  worn  by  its  flow, 
And  uptorn  rocks,  and  homes,  and  herd, 

Together,  while  each  neighbouring  wood, 
And  hill,  rings,  as  still  brooks  are  stirred 

To  fury  by  the  furious  flood. 
Lord  of  himself,  and  happy,  will 

He  be,  who  can  from  day  to  day 


17 

Say,  "I  have  lived;  let  Jove  fulfil 

To-morrow's   sky  with   leaden-grey 
Clouds  or  with  shine,  he  can't  undo 

What  has  been  done,  nor  make  as  naught, 
No,  nor  reforge  and  shape  anew, 

What  once  the  flying  hour  has  brought". 
Exultant  in  her  cruel  trade, 

Playing  her  rude  game  ceaselessly, 
Fortune  shifts  honours,  fickle  jade, 

Kind,  now  to  others,  now  to  me. 
I  praise  her  present;  if  she  flap 

Her  wings,  pay  back  without  ado 
Her  gifts,  use  virtue  as  my  wrap, 

And  poverty  undowried  woo. 
Not  mine,  if  stormy  Afric  bows 

The  groaning  mast,  to  fly  to  prayers 
Abject,  and  bargain  with  shrill  vows 

That  Cyprian  and  Tyrian  wares 
May  not  enrich  the  greedy  seas. 

At  such  a  time  in  light  pair-oar, 
Sped  by  twin  Pollux  and  by  breeze, 

I'll  cross  the  Aegean  safe  to  shore. 

Od.  IF.  i. 

WHAT,  Venus,  would'st  thou  now  recall 
Wars  long  abandoned?   Spare,  I  pray. 
I  am  not  what  I  was  as  thrall 

Of  kindly  Cinara.     Cease  to  sway, 
O  sweet  Loves'  cruel  mother,  one, 

Who,  with  his  fiftieth  year  anigh, 


18 

Bends  not  to  thy  mild  rule;  begone 

Whither  young  gallants'  coaxing  cry 
Recalls  thee.     Timelier  wilt  thou 

Revel  with  glistering  swans  to  fire 
Young  Paulus  Maximus,  I  trow, 

If  fitting  heart  be  thy  desire. 
For  as  high-born  and  fair  to  see, 

No  silent  champion  at  the  Bar, 
Graced  with  a  hundred  graces,  he 

Will  bear  thy  standards  wide  and  far: 
Who,  when  he  shall  have  mocked,  in  pride 

Of  power,  a  rival's  bribery, 
In  marble,  Alban  lakes  beside, 

'Neath  cedar  roof  will  image  thee. 
There  shall  abundant  incense  greet 

Thy  nostrils;  Berecynthian  flute 
And  lyre  for  thee  shall  blend  their  sweet 

Music,  nor  shall  Pan-pipe  be  mute. 
Twice  every  day  shall  lads  and  gay 

Young  lasses  celebrate  thy  might, 
And  shake  the  earth,  in  Salian  way, 

With  threefold  beat  of  feet  snow-white. 
Naught  cheers  me  now — nor  lass,  nor  lad, 

Nor  wistful  hope  of  love  that  shall 
Match  mine,  nor  brows,  with  flowerets  clad 

Fresh-blown,  nor  bouts  convivial. 
But  why,  ah  Ligurinus,  why 

Steal    down    my    cheeks    rare    tear-drops? 

Whence 
The  breaks  that  silence  shamefully 

My  tongue,  and  halt  its  eloquence? 


19 

Fast  now  I  hold  thee  in  my  dreams; 

In  dreams  now  chase  thee  o'er  the  sward 
Of  Mars'  great  Field,  now  thro*  the  stream's 

Swift  flood — 0  cruel  heart,  and  hard! 

Od.  IV.  4. 

LIKE  as  the  bird  that  bears  on  high 
Jove's  bolts,  by  heaven's  Lord,  as  its  meed, 
Made  king  of  birds,  for  loyalty 

Proved  upon  fair-haired  Ganymede; 
Him  youth  and  native  grit  of  old 

Drove  from  the  nest  or  e'er  he  knew 
Toil,  and  Spring  winds,  when  clouds  had  rolled 

By,  sent  him  forth  on  ventures  new, 
Half  fearful;  soon,  with  rushing  stoop 

To  sheepfolds,  he  would  strike  his  prey, 
On  struggling  snakes  anon  to  swoop, 

Urged  by  the  lust  of  feast  and  fray; 
Or,  as  a  fawn  that,  having  quit 

Its  red  dam's  dugs  for  lavish  grass, 
Sees  lion-cub  newly  weaned — sees  it 

To  die  by  its  young  fangs,  alas! — 
So  saw  the  Vindelicians 

'Neath  Alps  of  Raetia  Drusus'  war, 
When,  conquered  by  a  young  man's  plans, 

Troops,  that  had  conquered  long  and  far — 
Who  arm  with  Amazonian 

Axe  their  right  hands — have  armed  them  so 
Always;  whence  came  the  use  I  can 

Not  say;  not  all  things  may  one  know — 


20 

Felt  what  a  mind,  a  temper,  taught 

In  fostering  home  to  bear  its  part, 
Could  do:  how  on  the  Neros  wrought 

Augustus'  care — his  father's  heart. 
Brave  souls  spring  from  the  brave  and  true; 

Ever  in  steers,  in  colts,  there  is 
The  mettle  of  their  sires,  nor  do 

Fierce  eagles  breed  soft  doves,  ywis. 
But  teaching  trains  the  force  innate; 

Right  culture  firms  the  heart;  whene'er 
Morals  decay,  faults  vitiate 

What  is  by  nature  good  and  fair. 
What  to  the  Neros  Rome  you  owe 

Metaurus*  flood  attests  for  aye, 
And  Hasdrubal,  your  vanquished  foe, 

And  Latium's  fair  and  cloudless  day, 
That  first  smiled  with  kind  victory 

Since  the  dread  African,  Rome's  bane, 
Like  flame  thro'  pines,  swept  Italy, 

As  Eurus  sweeps  Sicilian  main. 
Thenceforth  with  labours  prosperous 

Rome's    youth    grew    strong,    and    temple* 

wrecked 
By  Punic  onslaught  impious, 

Beheld  their  Gods  again  erect. 
Quoth  treacherous  Hannibal  at  length — 

"As  stags,  the  prey  of  fierce  wolves,  we 
Chase  wantonly  a  foe  whose  strength 

'Tis  triumph  rare  to  foil  and  flee. 
The  race,  that  from  Troy's  cinders  bore 

Bravely  across  the  Tuscan  sea 


21 

Thro'  storms  to  the  Ausonian  shore 

Its  Gods,  babes,  manhood's  chivalry — 
As,  lopped  by  axe  in  dark-leaved  wood 

Of  shady  Algidus,  holm-oak — 
Thro'  scathes,  thro'  wounds,  draws  hardihood 

And  courage  from  the  iron's  stroke. 
Not  stronger  grew  'gainst  Hercules 

The  Hydra  maimed,  as  hard  bestead 
He  chafed;  not  greater  prodigies 

Echion's  Thebes  and  Colchis  bred. 
Plunged  in  the  depths,  it  rises  more 

Resplendent;  grapple  it,  it  will  bring 
Down  proudly  unscathed  conqueror, 

And  wage  wars  for  its  wives  to  sing. 
No  haughty  messengers  shall  I 

Now  send  to  Canhage;  fallen  is  all 
Our  hope:  fallen  our  fortune,  aye, 

Our  name — dead  with  dead  Hasdrubal. 
Naught  shall  the  Claudian  hands  not  do, 

By  Jove's  kind  favour  evermore 
Protected:  by  shrewd  counsels  too 

Brought  safely  thro'  the  risks  of  war." 
t 

Od.  IV.  5. 

BY  grace  of  kind  Gods  born,  best  champion 
Of  Romulus'  race,  too  long  you  stay  from  home; 
Upon  your  promise  to  return  anon 

Our  sacred  Council  rests;  keep  it,  and  come. 
Give  to  your  country  back,  dear  Chief,  your  light, 
For,  when  upon  our  folk  your  face  has  shone, 


22 

Like  Spring,  the  very  sunshine  seems  more  bright, 

Aye,  and  more  pleasantly  the  days  pass  on. 
Even  as  a  mother,  when  her  boy,  delayed 

By  South  Wind's  jealous  breath,  beyond  the  sea 
Carpathian  lingers,  from  his  dear  home  stayed 

More  than  a  year,  recalls  him  ceaselessly 
By  vows,  by  prayers,  by  divinations,  nor, 

A-watch  for  him,  from  winding  coast-line  turns 
Her  eyes,  so  with  heart-longings  evermore 

His  country  for  her  absent  Caesar  yearns. 
In  safety  roam  our  oxen  over  leas, 

By  Ceres  and  by  kind  Prosperity 
Fattened;  our  sailors  fly  o'er  peaceful  seas; 

Faith  shrinks  from  blame  as  from  an  infamy; 
Adulteries  never  smirch  homes'  fair  renown; 

Custom  and  Law  have  chased  the  impiety; 
Children  like  husbands  are  our  matrons'  crown; 

Hard  on  offence  presses  the  penalty. 
Who  would  fear  Persians,  or  chill  Scythia's  hordes, 

Or  shaggy  Germany's  war-loving  breeds: 
Who  would  reck  aught  of  fierce  Hiberia's  swords, 

While  Caesar's  life  is  safe:  while  Caesar  leads? 
Each  on  his  own  hills  sees  the  sunlight  fail; 

To  "marriageable  elm"  he  weds  his  vine; 
This  done,  his  wine  recalls  him,  soon  to  hail 

You  at  his  second  course  as  all  divine.  _• 
With  wine  from  goblets  poured,  with  many  a  prayer, 

He  honours  you,  and  to  his  deities 
He  adds  your  Lar,  as  Greece,  mindful  of  their 

Exploits,  hails  Castor  and  great  Hercules. 


23 

Long  may  you  give,  good  Chief,  such  festival 
Days  to  Hesperia — thus,  while  yet  the  day 

Is  whole,  and  we  athirst:  thus,  when  we  all 

Have  well  drunk,  and  the  sun  has  set,  we  pray. 

Od.  IV.  6. 

GOD,  by  whose  will  the  vaunting  word 
Of  Niobe  was  her  children's  knell: 
Whom  Tityos  knew,  and  Phthia's  lord, 

Before  whose  might  Troy  all  but  fell, 
A  peerless  warrior,  but  for  thee 

No  match,  tho',  as  the  Sea-Queen's  son, 
Fighting  with  spear  tremendous,  he 

Shook  the  tall  towers  of  Ilion. 
He,  as  a  pine  by  keen  axe  thrown, 

Or  cypress  felled  by  East  Wind's  gust, 
Fell  great  and  greatly,  and  laid  down 

His  haughty  neck  in  Trojan  dust. 
Not  he,  in  horse,  feigned  offering 

To  Pallas'  honour,  would  betray 
Trojans  untimely  revelling, 

And  Priam's  hall  with  dancers  gay, 
But,  stern  to  foes  ta'en  openly, 

He'd  burn  with  Greek  fires — ah,  the  sin 
Of  it! — small  boys,  yet  infants,  aye, 

And  babes  their  mothers'  wombs  within; 
Had  not,  by  kindly  Venus'  prayers 

And  thine  impelled,  the  Sire  most  High 
Granted  Aeneas  and  his  heirs 

Walls  traced  with  happier  augury. 


24 

Of  sweet  Thalia's  psaltery 

Master,  who  lav'st  thy  flowing  hair 
In  Xanthus,  beardless  Way-God,  be 

The  Daunian  Muse's  pride  thy  care. 
My  genius  is  of  Phoebus'  dower, 

Aye,  and  my  art;  he  gives  to  me 
My  poet's  name.     O  virgins'  flower, 

And  boys  of  noble  ancestry, 
Wards  of  the  Delian  Goddess,  who 

Stays  flying  stags  and  lynxes  fleet, 
Be  to  the  Lesbian  measures  true, 

And  mark  my  thumb's  controlling  beat, 
Duly  exalting  Leto's  son, 

Duly  the  Night-Queen's  crescent  light, 
Who  brings  full  crops,  and  hurries  on 

The  months'  career — their  onward  flight. 
"Trained  to  the  modes" — anon  you'll  say 

As  bride — "of  Horace,  poet-seer, 
On  our  centennial  holiday 

I  sang  a  song  Gods  loved  to  hear". 

Od.  IV.  8. 

f^  LADLY  I'd  give  my  boon  companions, 

v-*  To  suit  their  tastes,  goblets  and  bronzes  rare, 

And  tripods,  prizes  of  Greek  champions, 

Nor,  Censorinus,  would  you  get  least  share, 
That  is,  if  with  such  gems  my  house  were  filled, 

Such  as  Parrhasius  or  Scopas  wrought, 
The  one  in  stone,  with  paints  the  other,  skilled 

To  image  God  or  man,  as  genius  taught. 


25 

But  I  have  no  such  store,  nor  have  such  things 

Aught  that  your  fortunes  lack,  or  tempers  crave; 
In  song  is  your  delight;  as  offerings 

Songs  we  can  give,  and  tell  what  worth  they 

have. 
Not  marbles  graven  with  records  of  proud  feats, 

Whereby  return  their  breath  to  warriors  dead 
And  life:  not  Hannibal's  hurried  retreats, 

No,  nor  his  threats'  recoil  on  his  own  head, 
More  gloriously  manifest  his  praise 

Who  won  from  conquered  Africa  a  name, 
Than  the  Calabrian  Muses;  nor,  if  lays 

Were  silent,  would  you  get  your  meed  of  fame. 
What  would  the  son  of  Mars  and  Ilia  be, 

If  jealous  silence  buried  Romulus, 
And  his  deserts?  Not  his  integrity 

Alone  from  Stygian  waves  snatched  Aeacus, 
And  raised  him  in  blest  isles  to  deity, 

Nay,  but  great  poets'  voices  too  and  grace. 
Who  praise  deserves,  the  Muse  forbids  to  die. 

With   heaven  she  blesses.    Thus   she   makes   a 

place 
For  Hercules  where  high  Jove  feasts  the  blest; 

Thus  the  Tyndaridae,  bright  luminaries, 
Snatch  from  profoundest  depths  ships  storm-distrest; 

Thus  Liber  satisfies  his  votaries. 

Od.  IV.  9. 

LEST  you  should  fancy  that  the  songs  which  I, 
By  Aufidus'  far-sounding  waters  sprung, 
With  modes  of  art  till  then  unknown,  have  sung — 


26 

Songs  to  be  married  to  the  lyre — will  die, 

Think  that,  if  to  Maeonian  Homer  pride 

Of  place  belongs,  yet  Pindar's  song  remains; 
The  Cean  Muse,  Alcaeus'  warlike  strains, 

Stesichorus'  stately  epics,  still  abide. 

Time  has  not  rased  Anacreon's  minstrelsy, 

His  merry  songs;   still  breathes  the  love,  still 

burn 
The  fires,  entrusted  to  her  sad  cithern 

By  the  Aeolian  maid  in  years  gone  by. 

Not  Spartan  Helen  only  has  admired 

A  gay  gallant's  tressed  locks,  his  broidery 
Of  gold,  his  princely  pomp,  his  company, 

And  with  the  vision  has  been  passion-fired. 

Not  first  did  Teucer  from  Cydonian  bow 
Shoot  shafts;  not  only  once  has  Ilion 
Been  sacked;  not  huge  Idomeneus  alone, 

Or  Sthenelus,  waged  warfare  long  ago 

Worthy  the  Muses'  song;  not  first  did  haught 
Hector  and  keen  Deiphobus  await, 
And  meet,  fierce  blows  in  combats  passionate 

For  innocent  wives  and  tender  children  fought. 

Before  the  age  of  Agamemnon  wight 

Lived  many  a  hero,  but  unwept,  unknown, 
Because  no  sacred  bard  hymned  their  renown, 

They,  one  and  all,  lie  whelmed  in  endless  night. 

'Twixt  valour  hid  and  buried  cowardice 
Small  is  the  difference;  never  will  I, 
In  what  I  write,  pass  you  unhonoured  by, 

In  silence,  Lollius,  nor  in  any  wyse 

Suffer  green-eyed  oblivion  to  wear 


27 

Your  many  deeds  away,  unchecked  by  song. 

Yours    is    the    statesman's    soul,    upright    and 

strong, 

Or  in  misfortune,  or  in  fortune  fair: 
Of  greedy  guile  avenger  stern,  unmoved 

By  all-seducing  gold's  attraction, 

A  consul  it,  not  of  one  year  alone, 
But  ever  when,  as  judge  true  and  approved, 
It  has  set  Right  before  expediency: 

Has     scorned     offenders'     bribes     with     proud 
disdain: 

Has  thro'  opposing  ranks  cloven  amain 
Its  way,  its  stedfast  march,  to  victory. 
Not  rightly  will  you  speak  of  him  as  blest 

Whose  wealth  is  many  things;  more  truly  he 

Can  claim  the  title,  "Blest",  who,  skilled  to  see 
What  wisdom  bids,  uses  at  wisdom's  hest 
The  gifts  of  heaven:  can  bear  hard  poverty: 

Who   dreads  far  worse  than  death  dishonour's 
brand; 

No  coward  he,  who  for  his  motherland 
And  comrades  dear  would  never  fear  to  die. 

Od.  IV.  10. 

HARD-HEARTED  yet,  and  strong  with  strength 
of  Venus'  gifts  of  grace, 
When  grows  to  your  despair  thick  down  upon  your 

proud  young  face, 

And  when  the  hair  is  cut  that  now  about  your  shoul- 
ders flows, 


28 

And  when  the  hue  that  now  transcends  the  scarlet 

of  the  rose, 
Changed,  Ligurinus,   shall  have   made  your  face   a 

shaggy  mask, 
Then,  as  the  glass  reflects  the  change,  you'll  cry, 

"Ah  me.",  and  ask, 
"Why  had  I  not  the  mind  that  now  is  mine  in  young- 

sterhood: 
Or  why  return  not  my  fresh  cheeks  to  match  my 

present  mood?" 

Od.  IV.  13. 

LYCE,  the  Gods  have  heard  my  prayer; 
They've  heard  it,  Lyce;  you  grow  old, 
And  yet  you  wish  to  pose  as  fair, 

And  drink  and  wanton  brazen-bold. 
Drunken,  you  woo  with  quavering  tongue 

Unwilling  Cupid;  ah,  but  he 
Keeps  watch  on  the  fair  cheeks  of  young 

Chia,  queen  of  the  psaltery. 
Past  withered  oaks  he  wings  his  flight 

Ruthless,  and  you,  yes  you,  he  flies 
Because  tan  teeth,  hair  snowy-white, 

And  wrinkles,  smirch  you  in  his  eyes. 
Nor  Coan  silks,  nor  jewelry, 

Bring  back  the  years  of  youth  and  prime — 
Years  stored  in  public  history, 

And  sealed  therein  by  winged  Time. 
Your  beauty,  radiance,  grace — what  death 

Has  chased  them?  What  is  there  to  see 


29 

Of  what  you  were — of  her  whose  breath 

Breathed  love:  who  stole  my  heart  from  me: 
A  presence  after  Cinara's  blest, 

Winsome,  renowned — where  is  it?  Where? 
But  fate  gave  Cinara  at  the  best 

Few  years;  having-  intent  to  spare 
Lyce  to  rival  an  old  crow, 

That  ardent  swains,  coming  to  view 
Your  beauty's  torch,  might  see  it  now 

Fallen  to  ash,  and  laugh  at  you. 

Od.  IF.  14. 

WHAT  zeal  of  Senate  or  of  people  may 
With  fitting  meed  of  honours  eternize, 
Augustus,  your  all-worthiness  for  aye, 

By  graven  inscriptions  and  State-histories, 
Prince  of  all  princes  mightiest,  wheresoever 

The  sun  illumes  earth's  peoples  with  his  light, 
Whom  the  Vindelici,  untaught  to  bear 

Rome's  yoke  have  lately  learnt  to  know — your 

might 
In  war,  for  Drusus,  with  your  soldiery, 

With  more  than  mere  requital,  overthrew 
Fiercely  the  turbulent  Genauni,  aye, 

And  swiftly  marching  Brenni — strongholds  too 
Perched  on  the  awful  Alps.     This  warfare  won, 

The  elder  Nero  clashed  in  furious  fight 
With  the  gigantic  Raeti,  and  anon 

Put  them,  with  happy  auspices,  to  flight. 
A  gallant  sight  he  was,  as  gallantly 


30 

With  mighty  shocks  his  battle  smote  amain 
Hearts  freely  dedicate  to  liberty 

Or  death — well  nigh  as  Auster  sweeps  the  main 
Tameless,  what  time  the  Pleiads'  choir  on  high 

Disparts  the  clouds — eager  to  thrust  his  way 
Thro'  enemy  ranks,  and  ride  his  fiery 

Steed  thro'  the  heat  and  fury  of  the  fray. 
As  bull-like  Aufidus,  whose  waters  pass 

Apulian  Daunus'  realm,  rolls  in  his  pride, 
What  time  he  fumes,  and,  fuming,  plots,  alas! 

A  flood  whose  waves  shall  waste  the  countryside, 
So  Claudius  overwhelmed  with  rush  far-sped 

The  mailed  barbarians'  hosts,  as,  mowing  down 
Front  ranks  and  rear,  he  strewed  the  battle-stead 

With    slain,    and    won,    unscathed,    the    victor's 

crown. 
You  gave  the  troops,  you  gave  the  plan,  yours  were 

The  favouring  auspices,  for  on  the  day 
That  Alexandria  humbly  opened  her 

Harbours  and  empty  palace,  as  your  prey, 
On  this  same  day,  three  lustres  passed,  Good  Speed, 

Which  gave  unbroken  victory  to  your  hands, 
Has  added  this  renown,  and  longed-for  meed 

Of  glory,  to  your  earlier  commands. 
You  the  Cantabrian,  whom  none  could  tame 

Before:  you  Parthian,  Indian,  Scythian 
Nomad,  revere — you,  of  the  Italian  name. 

And  sovereign  Rome,  abiding  Guardian. 
The  Nile  and  Hister,  streams  that  hide  their  springs: 

Tigris'  fast-flowing  flood:  your  beck  abide; 
Aye,  and  the  monster-teeming  Main  that  flings 


31 

On  far  Britannia's  shore  its  breakers'  pride. 
You  claim  the  allegiance  of  the  Gallic  land, 

That  fears  not  death,  of  rough  Hiberia  too; 
The  blood-thirsty  Sygambri,  to  your  hand 

Brought,  lay  aside  their  arms,  and  reverence  you. 


Od.  IV.  15. 

pHOEBUS  with  lyre  forbade  me,  fain 
r  To  tell  of  captured  fort  and  fray, 
To  sail  upon  the  Tuscan  main 

My  little  bark.     Caesar,  your  sway 
Has  brought  back  plenty  to  our  land: 

Has  given,  from  Parthian  doors  reta'en, 
Our  standards  to  our  Jove;  your  hand 

Has  closed  Quirinal  Janus'  fane 
In  peace:  has  curbed  the  wild  abuse 

Of  lawless  license:  has  removed 
Faults,  and  recalled  to  us  the  use 

Of  virtues  that  our  fathers  loved, 
Whence  grew  to  strength  the  Latin  name — 

The  imperial  majesty,  that  won 
For  Italy  a  world-wide  fame, 

From  setting  unto  rising  sun. 
While  Caesar  rules  nor  civic  raves, 

Nor  force,  shall  banish  our  repose, 
No,  nor  the  rage  that  forges  glaives, 

And  brings  unhappy  towns  to  blows. 
The  Julian  law  none  shall  defy — 

Not  they  who  drink  the  Danube's  flood, 


Not  Getae,  Seres,  slippery 

Persians,  not  Tanais'  savage  brood. 
And  we  on  common  days  and  high, 

'Mid  rites  to  merry  Liber  paid, 
With  children  and  with  matrons  by, 

After  devotions  duly  made, 
Will  sing,  as  forbears  wont  to  do, 

Leaders  who  lived  brave  lives  and  fair, 
To  Lydian  flute — Anchises  too, 

And  Troy,  and  kindly  Venus'  heir. 


The  Secular  Hymn. 

PHOEBUS  and  Dian,  woodland  Queen, 

*        Glory  of  heaven's  resplendent  sheen, 

Worshipped  and  worshipful  for  aye, 

Grant  us  the  boons  we  seek  to-day: 

On  which  the  Sibyl's  runes  require 

That  boys  and  girls,  a  holy  choir, 

Shall  sing  unto  the  Gods  who  care 

For  our  seven  hills  a  hymn  of  prayer. 

Kind  Sun,  whose  chariot  on  its  way 

Opens  and  closes  every  day: 

Who  risest  different  yet  the  same, 

May'st  never  view  what  shrinks  Rome's  fame! 

Who  openest  ripe  wombs  of  thy  right 

Full  gently,  Ilithyia  hight, 

Or,  if  thou  wilt,  Lucina,  bless 

Our  mothers,  as  birth's  Patroness. 

Goddess,  bring  up  our  youth,  and  speed 


That  which  the  Fathers  have  decreed 

Wedlock  anent — the  law  whereby 

Marriage  creates  the  family, 

That  each  fixed  cycle,  covering 

Ten  times  eleven  years,  may  bring 

Anthems  and  games,  thronged  in  daylight 

Three  times,  and  three  times  in  the  night. 

Ye  Fates,  whose  prophecies  are  sure, 

As  promised — may  the  pledge  endure 

By  grace  of  our  great  Land-Mark's  stay! — 

Add  new  to  old  good  speed,  we  pray. 

With  crops  and  herds  rich,  may  our  land 

Bid  Ceres  crowned  with  wheat-ears  stand; 

May  Jove  with  many  a  favouring  breeze, 

And  kindly  rains,  bless  our  increase. 

Gentle  and  kind,  with  bow  laid  by, 

Apollo,  hear  our  striplings'  cry; 

Queen  of  the  stars,  with  crescent  brows, 

O  Luna,  hear  our  maidens'  vows. 

If  Rome  is  yours,  and  Ilion  bore 

The  folk  who  won  the  Etruscan  shore — 

A  remnant,  called  to  Lares  new 

And  homes,  and  safely  brought  thereto — 

For  whom,  unscathed  when  Ilion  flamed, 

Outliving  Troy,  Aeneas,  named 

The  Good,  to  give  them  more  than  they 

Had  lost,  carved  out  an  open  way. 

To  docile  youth  grant  honesty, 

Ye  Gods,  to  eld  tranquillity; 

Give  to  the  Romuleian  race 

Offspring,  and  means,  and  every  grace. 


34 

What  Venus'  and  Anchises'  heir 

Asks,  with  white  steers  to  plead  his  prayer, 

That  give  him:  let  him  crush  each  foe 

In  arms,  but  spare  a  foe  laid  low. 

By  sea  and  land  before  his  power, 

And  Alban  axes,  Parthians  cower; 

Now  Indians,  Scyths,  once  insolent, 

Wait  upon  his  arbitrament. 

Now  Faith  and  Peace  and  Chivalry 

Return  with  pristine  Modesty; 

Virtue  ignored  dares  re-appear, 

And  Plenty  with  full  horn  is  here. 

Surely  as  Phoebus,  archer-seer. 

Adorned  with  radiant  bow,  and  dear 

To  the  nine  Muses — he  whose  skill 

Healthgiving  heals  limbs  tired  and  ill — 

Sees  Palatine  heights  with  kind  face, 

He  lengthens  out  a  lustre's  space, 

And  on  to  aeons  of  success, 

Rome's  weal  and  Latium's  happiness, 

Diana  too,  whom  Aventine 

Hill  and  Mount  Algidus  enshrine, 

Heeds  our  Fifteen  Priests'  prayers,  and  hears 

Our  children's  vows  with  gracious  ears. 

That  Jove  and  all  the  Gods  assent 

We  bear  back  home  hope  confident, 

And  sure — the  chorus  trained  to  praise 

Phoebus  and  Dian  with  glad  lays. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


